Our Last Christmas Together

San Clemente Beach and Pier at Sunset

On Christmas 2011 Gary and I made the drive down to San Clemente to stay in a condo I reserved using our last timeshare from RCI. We had stayed there before a few years back.  I tried to get into Coronado, but could not.  This is a nice place though.
At this time, Gary was trying to figure out what caused his health issues. He still could not eat normally so I packed more food than usual to entice him to eat more.

The San Clemente Trail connecting the beaches and train station.

Gary was also wrestling with a decision on whether to move to Chicago to take the manager's job there.  I was totally against it, and he knew that.
Still, its such an honor to be considered for such a large branch that he couldn't just say no without a good reason.  He tried stalling them all through the mess in the hospital at Thanksgiving and through the beginning of December as he continued to lose weight.
He told them he would give them his decision when the doctors could tell him what was wrong with him.

The pier as seen from a small terrace area. Restaurant is on pier.

We didn't do much the four days we were in San Clemente. We drove up to Dana Point one day to where Gary and Forrest had gone years earlier on a deep sea fishing boat trip. We went to a large Ace Hardware and picked up the odd handle we needed for our patio door in Mentone that we had never seen anywhere else. We went to Target and looked for jeans and a belt for Gary for his smaller waist.  How I hate to think now that I was ACCOMMODATING that f*cking cancer that was eating him alive.

We stayed in the condos on the left.. Ours had a peek-a-boo ocean view.

We were returning to the condo in the truck when Gary got another call from his boss.  They wanted to talk about the Chicago move.  Gary and I had discussed how he just had to tell them he could not take it if he needed more medical care.  (At this point we were told Gary had liver disease.)

It was a gorgeous December afternoon as we sat outside and Gary talked to Brian.  The waves crashed to shore about 200 feet from where we sat. Surfers bobbed in the water waiting for the perfect wave and tourists, enjoying the sun, walked down the hill to the beach and shops and restaurants.

Gary was so regretful that he had to turn down that job. What would he have done though if he had another bleeding episode? Then again, maybe if he had, he would have had a different outcome had he been seen by doctors in Chicago.  I would not have been able to be there though if I would have had to stay behind and sell the house.  In hindsight, I still don't know what the right thing was, and what does it matter.  Gary would say "Don't look back. Look forward." but even he felt awful to have to tell them to give the position to someone else.

You can never know when the last time you see or do something is.  We all really need to look around and hear and smell and really experience life.  I think about that week in San Clemente now and remember the evenings Gary and I went to the pier restaurant for happy hour specials.  We sat outside and ate our fish or tacos watching as the sun sank from view; setting on our ocean, our world, and our life together. 

I am Woman

Well thank goodness Christmas is over.  I will be glad to end 2012, too.
2012: the year that Gary died.  Yeah, good riddance, 2012.

Let me go back pre Gary and tell you something more about myself.  I was, and am a 'Women's Libber'. I was a product of watching of Billy Jean King beat Bobby Riggs at tennis, and listening to Helen Reddy's song, 'I am Woman'. My friend Carmen and I checked out every issue of Ms. Magazine that the public library had. We refused to shave our legs, but decided that armpit shaving was good for proper hygiene.

I was 14 the summer that I heard this song.  I loved it then, and I love it now, but for different reasons.

When you hear the version with the lyrics, you'll probably remember too:

The most important part of that song were the words, "I'll never learn to be just me first, by myself"   Boy, that was NOT going to happen to me, my 14-15 year old thoughts said.

I was, at 14, defiantly against getting married.  If I did ever decide to do it, I was not automatically going to take his name if it was, in my opinion, not a good name. I already hated my first name, why add insult to injury, I thought. I refused to be seen in a dress and wore minimal makeup. No curlers came near my long hair. It was naturally wavy anyway, so I just let it grow to my waist.
I was into biking and rode my Italian 10-speed to Harrisburg and sometimes to Rowena and back even though the hills were killers. No one rode bicycles along those busy highways in those days.  I could unpack and repack the wheel hubs and lubricate the fork, and adjust the tension on the chain and brake cables.

Carly and Helen and Carol rode along with me in my head those days.

Of course, I did get a job at age 15 and worked with some fun and crazy people.  Carmen went her own way, probably disappointed that I was giving in to what society expected of us.
At 16, I met a guy I worked with and fell in love with him. We were together for more than a  year.  When he graduated, he felt compelled to leave to get away from his controlling alcoholic mother. He hoped I would understand and even more, to be there if he ever returned.  But he never did, and I was heartbroken.
Then I got a call from his best friend, Hopper.
Within a year I forgot what Carly Simon's song warns about.  I thought I could beat the odds.  I did not have the same doubts about marriage as she did. I didn't even plan to have kids.  I just wanted to be with Gary.
We worked hard at us and Gary hung in there with me and I stuck it out with him.  It was sooo worth it.

Fast forward again to present day, and I think of my life as a solo person.  I don't call myself single.  I am solo, meaning alone.  Single means living for oneself, IMO.
I am at a point where after 2 months without Gary, I am OK being alone some of the time.  I just feel like I need to be alone right now.  I don't know when I will be ready to be with other people every day, but I do know that its not now.

I can't stand the thought of living with someone other than Gary right now. A few days, here and there, yes, but weeks of togetherness with anyone, even if that person means well, is not what I need. I can't stand the thought of being someone's project who wants to prod me to 'rejoin' the world.  I've got enough right now, thank you.

The reason I remember That's the Way I've Always Heard It Should Be,  and why it resurfaced in my mind is because of those same lyrics, "I'll never learn to be just me first, by myself".  I am learning exactly this now on the other side of our marriage. Its still just as important to be just me first by myself,  as it was to those young women who yearned for their own sense of self in the 70's.

ChristmAZ

Got Suguaro? Gotta decorate it. Notice the antlers on the car.

If you don't have a suitable tree to light, use the agave

Outlining the property lines is a popular means of holiday expression.

Merry Christmas!

Things are just a leetle different here in The Valley at the holidays.  The first winter

I was here in December '03 I was amazed that people put lights down on the ground in their rocks.  I got used to it.  In California, they lay lights on the grass in their front yards. 

Its a lot easier than getting out a ladder and hanging them from the gutters while you freeze your butt off in December!

Of course some people do both,

but here in the SW we can wear

shorts and t-shirts while standing

on the ladder.  Hope you enjoy

some picts of the quirkiness of the holiday lights around my neighborhood.

These reindeer know where the sidewalk is thanks to the red lights.

Overkill. Notice the table on porch where all the Dickens Village houses are.

Plastic luminaries add a festive touch to clutter.

This I like.  The ever popular lighted fake creek.

More colorful suguaro twins.

No real cactus? No problem- go to Lowe's and get a plug in model.

Why bother with lights when you can lure Santa with these hat decoys.

  electric ice to imitate the North Pole.

Have a seat

I was not going to write what I am writing; not tonight anyway.
The past two or three days have been fairly good for me. I wrote to Gary as usual, and I even thought of a moment that I had not remembered until now and it made me laugh at what Gary said at the time.
 I accomplished getting through Sam's Club for the first time as a solo even though I still almost reached for the same old staples that 'we' needed, but 'I' do not.  The last time I went was when Gary was still alive but had stayed home because he had no strength to even walk into the store to the waiting electric shopping cart.  I remember being drained myself when I went to big box stores using my knee scooter after my broken heel surgery.
Oh whatever- I'm stalling.

This morning was my first appointment with a grief therapist.  I won't tell you his name, so let's just call him Al, because its nice and short to type. I was really looking forward to it.  I had gone to a therapist in Redlands after Gary was diagnosed with Parkinson's.  I never failed to feel better when I walked out of that office than when I went in.
In the hour Al allotted me, he wrote down some things as I rambled.  Mostly I talked about the last 15 years in which Gary and I spent a fair amount of time away from each other. He stopped me after awhile and said, "So. You are still expecting him to come back aren't you."  It was not a question.  I stopped too and had to think.  My mind says No, I am too intelligent to think that.  I know he's dead and whats left of him sits in a box on the bookshelf in the living room.  I saw him take his last breath.  I said goodbye. I paused and told Al, "The dog thinks he's coming back..."  But as I type this, I know I am waiting for him, not wanting to and feeling awful and pathetic that I am.

When I worked for the phone company, there was a universal language of terms for every event that could occur in the business.  In personnel terminology there was the word 'retreat'.  To retreat meant that if you took a transfer to another job that was in the same or higher wage group than what you left, you had 6 months to try it and if for any reason, you wanted to go back to your former job, you could 'retreat' back and be guaranteed your old position.  I was a lineman for a week once when the guy I replaced retreated which then bumped me back to being an operator. Then when I was an artist, I transferred into Customer Service and after 4 weeks of training and 1 week on the job, I decided, 'Oops- this is not what I can hack doing for the next 3 years'. So I retreated back to my old job in graphics.
I was thinking about that as I brushed my teeth tonight.  Every night I open the medicine cabinet and see Gary's Braun electric toothbrush in the cabinet.  It was last charged in early October.  It sits in the cabinet without a brush in it because I threw that away the day he died. It has been flashing "low battery" now for 2 months.
Looking at it is almost like seeing a heart beat that I keep waiting for to stop.  Its not a throw away brush, its a good quality keeper.
Well, as I think about Gary being gone, and that even his toothbrush is finally giving up that he will hold it again, and my realization that I am forever alone without him, I want to retreat.  I have never not had an option of retreating until now.  Think about it:  there's not many times in our lives that we can't get a do over. We are all about second chances in careers and even failed marriages.  Not so in getting to stay ALIVE in this world or, (worse) in being forced to stay behind IN the world after someone you counted on dies and leaves you.  Its pretty lousy not to have a choice.
That's what Al made me realize today.
I am going back again next week.  He will probably knock any happy right out of me again, if I have managed to bounce back in any way. Maybe that's his job.  Like the charge of an electric toothbrush, nothing lasts forever.

IT'S JUST NOT FAIR

I've been putting off writing on this topic for a couple of weeks.  In doing my research of the facts surrounding the causes of Gary's death, I get fairly depressed and even more angry. On top of dealing with the death of a spouse, these thoughts and questions may be doing more harm than good, but how can one know this without acting on these thoughts? So I will write about it anyway.

I went back in time to when Gary was first diagnosed with Parkinson's.  If you remember, that was in 2006.  For about 3 years, I spent an enormous amount of time reading and finding out what PD was, but I also cared about why and how it develops.  

Not surprisingly, the same bad actors that can lead to damage in the brain region called the substantia nigra, one area where dopamine is produced, also appear to cause cell damage elsewhere in the body leading to the possibility/probability of abnormal cell division, ie cancer.

Gary, like all of us, had a hand in his own death.  Some of the factors in developing Parkinson's Disease will sound familiar to those who inquire nervously about their personal risk factors for cancer.

Obviously, Gary could not control most of the indecent exposure he had to toxins, but his choice of occupation and the place he grew up in were certainly culprits.

So here is a novice's attempt at answering WHY Gary had to get Parkinson's in his 40's and Pancreatic Cancer at age 55.

Being from the upper midwest- Exposure to farm runoff, both field and feedlot contaminating ground water and the airborne pesticides sprayed over large areas where we lived and Gary worked.  He was a carpenter and got to work in the great outdoors of SE South Dakota. We lived on land surrounded by farms and farmers who took minimal care to spray their fields with herbicides and pesticides on calm days.  The herbicides killed many of our own trees. These chemicals also entered our lungs.

Living with a smoker- Hugely important, Gary never smoked. Never. But he did live in a house with a smoker and we know the damages it can cause.  No, I'm not blaming his dad for killing Gary. Who didn't grow up in a house where smokers lived and never went outside to spew their poisonous gases?  It was the 60's man, smoking was KOOL! But, for Gary and possibly we who are reading this, that second hand smoke may be one of our own death cards.

Choosing Carpentry as a career- Gary could make anything out of wood. He worked in a lumber yard and started buying his own power tools while in high school.  What kid does that, but one who loves woodworking?  He started breathing in the carcinogenic sawdust- yep, sawdust is a biggee, when he was a teenager. Add to that the lumber and plywood he cut was treated with chemicals and glued with adhesives, all sending their dangerous molecules down into his lungs and into his eyes and skin. 

Homebuilding/Cabinetmaking/Tilesetting- We tend to think of these as 'wholesome' occupations. They are not.  The mostly men who perform this work are exposed to countless toxic materials.  I did not say  hazardous, I mean toxic; in other words, known to cause damage, rather than just potentially causing damage.
Again, lacquer, thinner, adhesives, preservatives, stabilizers, color tinctures, metalic additives are in just about everything we use to build and furnish our homes. The simple act of laying a laminate floor or just opening the plastic covering of the box is exposure to toxins! Think of all the years of exposure to truly deadly materials Gary's body endured.  Here's something I found to illustrate what happens:
A toxic chemical may cause acute effects, chronic effects, or both. For example, if you inhale high levels of solvents on the job, you may experience acute effects such as headaches and dizziness which go away at the end of the day. Over months, you may begin to develop chronic effects such as liver and kidney damage. The delay between the beginning of exposure and the appearance of disease caused by that exposure is called the latency period. For example, the latency period of lung injury after exposure to nitrogen dioxide gas may be a few hours. Cancers due to chemical exposure have very long latency periods. Most types of cancer develop following a latency period of many years after a worker’s first exposure. The length of the latency period for chronic effects can make it difficult to establish the cause-and-effect relationship between the exposure and the illness. Since chronic diseases develop gradually, you may have the disease for some time before it is detected. It is, therefore, important for you and your physician to know what chronic effects might be caused by the substances with which you work.

Living in Southern California-I just heard on today's news that EPA is tightening the standards for soot. Guess where the 7 counties that won't meet the standards are: of course its Southern California.  When Gary moved in January 2003 to Colton, CA, he did not know that his apartment in Colton was in the dirtiest air quality areas of the US.  He was living in the midst of the largest diesel train yard in the country. Its called a "Diesel Death Zone".  For 2.5 years Gary walked every evening in the dirtiest most dangerous air one can put into their lungs. Gary also worked in the high wind, high dust area of Fontana. More pollutants blowing in from LA and the port of Los Angeles, and from those semis hauling all that Chinese shit through the Inland Empire to Wal-Marts in the rest of the U.S.

So my dear Gary was doomed. But why him and not me? Like the explanation above about toxic chemicals, most of us are in a latency period.  Some of us may live now or have lived near a busy freeway, this is also known to be a risk factor.  Even the microscopic pieces of rubber worn off of the cars that speed by are breathed in by the people who live and work by these roadways.  Its all a matter of degrees of exposure.  
The type of pancreatic tumor Gary had was unusual even amongst pc tumors.  It was not seen as a threat. It was a cyst.  But given all of his risk factors, it should not have been brushed aside.  We need doctors who really care to learn the whole picture of their patients.  This means they must listen to us and we must make them listen when we tell them about our history.
I read back at this post and reflect on all the nasty stuff I have been exposed to and even worse, what we exposed our sons to by living in newly built houses all the time. I see cancer as more and more a real threat.
Also keep in mind that our 'system' of care is not meant to cure cancer.  Have you noticed that all the cancer centers talk about is cancer TREATMENT, not cures?  Treatment is where the money is, not in cures.  That's a whole 'nother topic though.

Lastly, don't believe the crap about pancreatic cancer being rare and therefore not worrying about it.  Pancreatic cancer is the only cancer which is actually ON THE RISE.  It currently sits at the #4 killer spot but will move to be the #2 killer behind only lung cancer in just 6 years.
Of the leading cancer killers, pancreatic cancer is the least funded.  It is the least studied.  It is the least understood.  It is the only cancer that has no screening.  You are currently about 99% sure of dying if you are diagnosed with it and you will be joining an ever larger crowd of its victims in the future.

How's that for not being fair.

Public Education for the Terminally Tactless

I'm going to put in a plug for a site that I've been getting newsletters from for about 8 years.  I'll go MONTHS without reading them, and then, just like when you're standing in the checkout line at the store, some magazine headline will jump out and make you interested enough to look inside of the rag they're trying to sell.  This site is:

I'm pretty sure they won't mind me using their logo if it brings more eyes to their website and therefore more chances for advertising bucks.  

This site is very comprehensive on ALL topics about mental health and the related issues.  For instance two of the stories I read today that are totally unrelated to death or grief are titled,
Nostalgia Can Make You Feel Warmerand  The Amazing Benefits of Sleeping Longer

But before I lose you all to the links where you can read these fascinating articles, I also dove deeper into the website about widows/widowers topics.  I found one of the countless lists made by widows and widowers who document the inane comments we hear after the death of our spouse. I gleaned just a few of the gems to share. 
It's easy to read these and think, "Well that's just stupid.  *I* would NEVER say something like this to a widow/widower."  But alas, you do because I have heard them.  In fact, we all say this crap. I know that I said or at least thought some of these SAME things before I was a widow!

It was making me upset that people are so careless about what they say when dealing with widows, but I read another point of view on this just yesterday from another widower who is 3 years out from his wife's death. 
This guy has made a new life out of speaking about his widowhood and about death specifically of spouses.  He says that the number one pet peeve of widows is when people compare the death of a spouse to a loss in their own life.  He says this happens because, as humans, we seek to understand the other person, but when we have no experience that is exactly like the widow's, we do all that we can to find another experience in our own life to relate it to.  He says, "Its like when a child goes up to an amputee in a doctors' office and asks, "Did you hurt your leg?" The person confirms, "Yes, my leg hurt so badly they had to cut it off."  The child, will hold out his finger with a band-aid on it and say, "See this?  I hurt my finger too!"
Obviously the two 'hurts' are on the opposite spectrum of each other in affectation to the child and the adult, but the child has no other experiences from which to draw on so he can relate to the amputee.

This explains some of the comments made by people who truly care, but who just can't know what to say to a widow when they themselves have not 'lost their own leg'.  They show us their band-aids and try to relate.  There are many, many more comments that are downright toxic and uncaring though.  I do blame these ignoramuses for their thoughtlessness.  Read on, and you'll be amazed at some of the actual phrases/conversations heard by bereaved spouses: 

  Dumb Remarks and Stupid Questions 

"I know what you're going through."

(No you don't - unless your husband or wife has died.)

"I know exactly how you feel. After my nasty divorce was over I was…”

(Neither I nor my husband chose to end our marriage, so it is NOT like your divorce, OK?)

"Call me if you need anything- really" 
(You need WHAT? Sorry, no can do)

"It was for the best"

"God needed him more."

"God has a plan for everything"

(So did the Broncos.)

"At least he's not suffering anymore."

 (Why did he have to suffer at all?)

"So.. what are you thinkin’ - a year or two and you'll be over it?"

"If you need anything even just to talk - just call me"

(But all I get is your voice mail)

"Go back to work, it will distract you."

 (If I went back to work before I was ready, I would be so distracted I'd probably lose my job. Besides, I don't want to be distracted from my feelings.)

"Did he or she smoke?"

(I didn't attend the cremation)

"At least he lived a full, long life"

(I don't consider 55 that long a life)

"So what are you going to do with his tools?"

"It's been two weeks/six months/three years! How long are you gonna let this control your life?"

The day started out good, then came "the phone call." ARGGGHH!!! It was a lady I had met just once before at our Parents Without Partners meeting. She was calling to see when the next meeting will be, and asked me how long I had been divorced. When I told her that my husband had died, she laughed and said, "If it's any consolation, I wish my ex was dead!"

Two weeks before Nancy died, an Army Chaplain asked me if I had thought about getting married again. My soulmate, lover, and best friend was still with me, and he had the gall to ask that. I will never forget his callousness.

"You are young you'll find someone"

(HELLO I had someone! He was ripped away from me! Why don't they get it! I had something so great and it was taken away from me. It was my once in a life time I'll never have that again! I wish people would stop saying you're young, like that matters!)

"I haven't visited, because as long as I don't come over, I can pretend that he's still there."

(I have to live here every day, and believe me, I know he's not here.)

"You can talk to him any time you want. He hears you."  (But he can't answer.)

On the day of my husband's funeral.....a relative on my husband's side came up to me and said.... "What are you going to do with ALL THAT insurance money?

"You seem to be taking this well"

(You wouldn't want to see me when I am upset)

"At least your children are all grown"

(So that means I'm totally alone now)

When a man's wife dies, many men seek to bury themselves in some action or cause. In the movies, they shed one and a half tears, drink a fifth of whiskey, and charge off into the sunset to conquer evil, right injustice, save the world.

So, when I get the question,  "So what have you been doing?"   ‘Grieving’ doesn't cut it as an answer.  I've tried: "Seeking the meaning to life, existence, and the universe, and finding a cure for cancer in my basement." 

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If you've read this far, my last request  would be to just 'listen' to how these comments FEEL as if your own ears are hearing them at the absolute worst time in your entire life. Maybe, just maybe you can avoid uttering these same words to the next widow you encounter.  A lot of widows out there will thank you for your new found empathy.

The most beautiful gift

Coronado, California  December 23-26, 2009

This scene is real, although to me now it seems unreal. That Christmastime evening Gary and I stood together on the rocks looking out to the beach and ocean beyond it. I took this picture as the sun lit up the clouds with pinks, peaches and golds. It really is this beautiful and I remember it so well.  Gary and I got a four day stay over Christmas on Coronado Island at San Diego. I remember each of the days were warm. We walked on the beach and watched the people coming and going from the Hotel Del Coronado.  Each evening, we walked out to the sand again and sat and just took in the sunsets.  I wish everyone could do this at least one day of their life.

To have seen this with our own eyes reminds me how wonderful our gift of sight is. The only thing that Gary was able to donate after his death was one of his corneas.  I am told that it is now giving sight to someone in Southwestern North Dakota. If only with that gift of sight, Gary's memory of this beautiful place could have gone along with his cornea.

So maybe sight is not the most important gift we have. Instead, it is the meaning of the memories of the sights that we have seen that is the most beautiful gift of all.

Life Certificate

This is from a blog that another widow named Ali wrote. She is now 9 mos out from her husband's death. I like the way she writes and she seems to think the way I do in some ways.    I stole this blog post from her with her permission.  Thank you Ali.

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Certificate of LIFE

Today, I had to deliver a "certificate of death" for my husband to an agency for a matter that is not important to mention here. As I sat in the parking lot, reviewing the form - its facts and figures and names of those involved. I've had to look at it many times before for other reasons that all of us here experience, so this time it was not as "surreal", "shocking" and traumatic for me as it was in the first days of this journey. I kind of mulled it over a bit, not sure why maybe just wondering why now I am not having the same violent reaction to it as I had before. For reasons unknown to me my eyes rested upon my name on the form. Yep, that's me, that's my name, in black and white. Then I realized that where my name is, above that it says SURVIVING SPOUSES NAME (If wife, give name prior to first marriage)

This "certification" I understand as a necessary thing, and looking at it now, just 8 months past the worst day of my life I feel more a sense of formality about it, rather than the huge wave of heart twisting, gut stabbing pain I have been enduring these past 8 months. This formal, state sealed and certified document with its intricately swirled blue pattern around the edges is simply, a record of what happened. It doesn't contain the details of what happened, over which I still have a significant amount of anger and unresolved feelings. No, this "formality" is just that. A form for all those unconcerned with my life to reference simple facts about his death, and to prove that indeed, it really did happen. My husband died that day on Feb.13th 2012 at 10:35pm.
But I did not die. And this is the crux of it.

He is gone, and I am here. So I am wondering now to myself, where is my "Certificate of Life"? Where is the form that gives me the permission, the courage, the energy and the will to keep on living through such pain and fear and guilt and worry and second guessing and longing and regret and remembering and losing and struggling? Where is MY certificate? I think it might be a good idea to have those. I think I will make one for myself. And it will say something like this:

Certificate of Life:

This certificate is hereby given to you in recognition of the continuance of your life without your husband. It happened this day, this hour, this minute, this place, etc. You did not die with him although at times you will feel you have. You are certified as living. This means that you will most likely endure a great deal of pain from this loss, because, you are alive. You are certified as living, and therefore, you will have to find a way to accept this state of life, and to continue on living, because, you are indeed, alive.

This certificate of life also entitles you to treat yourself as living, meaning to participate in life (to the best of your ability) as much as possible given the circumstances surrounding your present state of living. It also certifies that since you are living, you deserve all the good things that life has to offer (as soon as you are ready to accept them) because, you are in fact, alive. You are entitled breathe, cry, scream, sulk, yell, work, eat, play, sing, dance, sleep, smile, laugh and dream. You may participate in anything you wish that life has to offer because, you are alive.
Be sure to show this certificate to anyone who questions your behavior, and be sure to look at it yourself as well - to remind yourself that you are ALIVE.

I think I will print my certificate on some very fancy paper, and frame it and put it up on the wall next to the pictures of Paul and I - because I need reminding.

Mosquito Bites

I just returned from a trip to Florida with my sister and brother-in-law.  It was very nice to get away. The flight from PHX to Orlando was long and depending on the song on my ipod, somewhat depressing.
From my window seat, I looked out into the clouds and thought back on all the trips Gary and I flew together including the last one which took us to Seattle and a cruise to Alaska.  How odd it seems now that we were just 4 weeks from the end of Gary's life.  He certainly didn't think so, and it was probably more enjoyable that way.
The clouds below my plane to Orlando probably resembled the ones Gary flew over on his last One Way flight to Sioux Falls the day he entered hospice. I have huge regrets that I was not sitting next to him on this last flight.  Again, we were thinking he'd live at hospice longer and I would need a car so I made the drive to Sioux Falls in two days.
I can't shake the feeling that whatever I am experiencing without Gary, I can still call him or tell him about it when I see him again. I understand this is a common feeling of widows who have the same thoughts for the first year or more. Its the feeling that their husband is just away on a trip or working out of town.  "We'll catch up later," my mind says to me, "when Gary pulls into the garage in the truck he drove from the airport."  Maybe he is in Vegas putting a trade show together or he is at a managers' meeting in Michigan. "It won't be long." thinks my faulty brain. Soon he'll walk through the door to give me a hug that only my 6'2" husband can deliver.

Being alone when traveling is nothing new to me.  Sometimes Gary and I would leave from separate airports and meet up at a connecting flight or at the destination.  It was kind of freaky but fun when this happened at the start of the trip, but to have to split up for the flight back to our separate homes was a lonely feeling for me.

I always tear up when I say goodbye to someone.  I don't know why, but I have ever since I would say goodbye to Nathan when he was driving the 60 mi to go back to college.  Its one of those times when I'm aware that things won't be the same ever again.  The people you love are going back to where they came from and we both have our own circles in which we travel outside of the one we just included them in.  More recently, it is the sad, sad feeling of knowing you may never see that person again, even if it is them just making a short drive back to their home. I used to tear up when I said goodbye to Gary every Sunday, no matter if he took me to the airport or if I drove back to Phoenix in my car.  Its just the way I operate.

When I met up with Darla and Bob at the Orlando airport, it was so good to see them.  I have so much to be grateful for them to have thought of sharing a few days of their vacation with me.  They are way too generous the way they treat me.  I've actually known Bob longer than I knew Gary.  He is one of the nicest guys on this earth and is still the same person as when we met when I was 14 and just a 'little sister'.

We went to Epcot, because I said that is where I'd like to go.  I could have chosen any of the theme parks, since Gary and I have never been to any of them.
The weather was perfect; sunny, warm and no wind.  Warmer than usual for the time of year, but there were no complaints from us.
Everything was decked out for Christmas and there were some new attractions that had recently opened.  I should have studied this earlier so we could have run to get the Fast Passes for those, but oh well.
We went on quite a few rides and exhibits and saw things that Bob and DL remembered from a trip about 20 years earlier.  The highlight was eating in the different countries of the world.  I like Morocco the best.

It was a good day, even though many times I felt what it is like to be the odd man out now.  Rides built for two people meant I sat alone.  It sure would have been nice to have Gary next to me.

The reason I even went on this trip was because I didn't have to feel guilty about going without Gary.  This sort of vacation was not something we would have done now that we have no young kids to take.  I felt that if I went, I wouldn't be cheating poor Gary out of something that he wanted to do but can't now that he's dead.

I had a great time with Bob and Darla just as Gary and I always did when we went places with them.  We ate at some good restaurants and the weather couldn't have been better.  On Bob's golf day, Darla and I went to an outlet mall and looked at things for grandchildren.

I am so appreciative that my peeps thought of me.  I am so glad I have a sister and a brother-in-law who are kind and patient. I still got teary eyed when we went to our separate gates for our flights home.  Of course I thought of Gary when I walked through the Vegas airport because it seems everywhere I go now, the previous time I was there, it was with him.

Now that I'm back at the house, I am reminded of the fantastic warm evening last Saturday when the three of us sat outside on the patio overlooking the golf course eating prime rib and sipping on Margaritas.  I have a tangible memory of those moments in my mind every time I reach down to scratch my ankle where the Florida mosquitos feasted on my leg that night.

Old Mother Hubbard

Does this photo strike fear in your heart?  Does it make you just a little queasy even?

Seeing this scene in person does make me feel that and more.

This is Super Target.  I happen to be a huge fan of Super Target.  Gary and I would go out of our way to stop at one when we could find them in California where they are a rare commodity.

Here in Peoria, there is one just up the road on Lake Pleasant.  Its called appropriately, the Far North Peoria Super Target.

Gary and I went here a lot. Most people know how Gary loved to sniff out bargains. He would leave me and cruise all over the store looking only at the end caps for markdowns and closeouts.  He especially went nuts after holidays when the stores had their 50% off candy.  He couldn't care less about Easter itself, but don't stand in his way on the Monday after!  He was all about stocking up on Peeps, Cadbury eggs and malted milk balls.  Halloween was even bigger:  Butterfingers! Snickers! Even Christmas has its markdowns where you can find Christmas tree and gingerbread man Peeps.
I found out that what Gary didn't take to work and eat,(I have witnesses who saw him downing out of season candy year 'round) he would hide in the garage at home in his Craftsman rolling toolboxes!  Pretty safe because he knew *I* was never going to go out there and use those tools.  I had him do everything and he knew it.

Gary also liked to go to the meat department and find the reduced packages of just about anything.  If he took it home immediately and put it on the grill or threw it into the freezer it was fine!

So, to reduce the pain of remembering how enjoyable it was to watch Gary find bargains at Target or any grocery store, I have been avoiding it altogether.  Until last night that is.

When I got home from Sioux Falls, and went through all of Gary's clothes, I also went through the kitchen and threw out all of 'his' food.  I actually gave a lot of it to the people across the street.  Chuck is the same build as Gary so he got most of it. (Chuck'll eat it! He eats anything! Hey Chuck!)  He gladly took the candy and treats and high calorie drinks that I bought for Gary in hopes of upping his caloric intake. I was left with only the 'good' stuff that I should eat.
Well the party's over and the pantry was finally empty after 2 months.  I have twice ventured into our local grocer and ducked out with only milk and eggs.  I bought veggies at Sprouts where I was pretty much OK.

But last night I went to Target to use my $5 off $50 coupon. My mission was to actually buy groceries. It was hard when I saw the electric carts by the front door which Gary has driven so many times. I couldn't go near the meat counter and I still don't need to buy meat anyway.  Its very very weird to not buy what I have always bought for 'us'.  When its just me, I don't want the same stuff.  Ice cream?  Nope. Juice? Nope. Microwave Popcorn? Nope. Pizza? Nope. It takes the fun out of it when you don't even have someone else to think about.  My mind says, "Hey- Gary likes egg nog and its on sale- I'll get him some!"  Nope.

I managed to get enough boring ME food to make the $50 for the coupon.  Almond Milk yogurt, tuna, soup, and Weight Watcher dinners: I hear this is all the rage in widow cuisine.

I don't know how long it will take to not be sad when I go shopping without Gary or go shopping for his tastes.  Its certainly lighter on the budget, which is great, but what fun is saving money if you have no one to tell, "Look at this! I found this in the markdown cart for a buck!"

Remembering Tastefully

Have you ever watched the show on A&E network called Hoarders- Buried Alive?  Whacko people with a heap o' problems and an even bigger heap o' JUNK get help to let go and begin to straighten out their messed up lives and homes. I remember one episode where a daughter scaled a mountain of junk in the extra bedroom of her dad's house to the closet. She opened the door and hanging inside were 6 dresses that were her mother's.  Her mother had passed away 30 years earlier though.  Her dad just could not part with those dresses and the memories they held for him.

Now, have you ever noticed those roadside memorials on just about every highway in the US? My first impression is always, "Oh My God, what an eyesore that is!"  I think Dollar Tree must have dreamed up this custom so they'd have a steady market to sell their fake flowers to!  What kind of person DOES this crap?

Now I know what kind of person does this and what kind of person holds on to the clothes and personal items of someone they loved who died.

When Gary died, I remember telling my daughter-in-law that I would be getting rid of Gary's clothes immediately when I got home.  I wasn't going to be one of those crazy nutjob widows who hang onto their dead spouse's clothes forever! So yeah, I got home, and I took a huge load of all the clothes and shoes to Goodwill.  I did save some of Gary's nicer polo work shirts in case a relative would want them.  I already regret giving away all Gary's t-shirts though. They were wearable postcards of all the places we have been. I found out you can make a quilt of t-shirts.  It would have been so neat to have a quilt to cover up with that was so emblematic of Gary.

Shrines to loved ones are pretty common from what I read on the widow's website.  People put a few little things such as locks of hair, a keychain, coffee mug-- whatever is very personal from that person on a shelf alongside a candle and the picture of that person.

I have some items that I was very surprised to get that I would like to use in a shrine of sorts for Gary.
My mother-in-law kept some artwork and papers that Gary made in 1st and 2nd grades.  To go through these now and see how nice 'little' Gary's work was, is so fun!  There are lots of pictures made at Christmastime,  and stories that he wrote in perfectly printed letters about his brother and sisters. I found one especially nice paper angel that he colored.  It is stapled into a circle so it stands. I have this little angel out as a Christmas decoration since I have no other decorations out this year. (see past blog titled 'Two-Fer")

I've decided Gary's 'shrine' will be in the curio cabinet Gary made for me when we were still living in an apartment in Sioux Falls.  He built it from a pattern from a woodworking magazine he subscribed to and it turned out pretty nice. I had no room in this little house to put it, but I've thought of a way to make room by moving some storage boxes out to the garage so the curio can come in.
I have enough 'stuff' to put inside it and display tastefully without resorting to buying silk flowers from Dollar Tree or displaying old polo shirts inside. Of course some of Gary's artwork will go in there too.

I don't want to get too flaky about the whole thing so I won't be sitting cross-legged on the floor chanting oohmmmmm in front of it.  But I think it'll be nice to have a 'remembering place' in the office where I sit and write these blogs.
I am thankful to my mother-in-law who saved those papers from her little boy whom I never knew until he was grown up. It puts some pieces of a life puzzle together to make it whole.

And Gary's shirts still hanging in the closet?  I've got so much space in there that I don't use now, so it would look empty without them.  Maybe in 30 years(?)  Just don't send a camera crew from A&E over please.

Gary's Legacy

I was just thinking about the word Legacy; what it means to me and about what it means in terms of what Gary and the memories of him mean to other people.  Their relationships with him were way all over the board different than mine, as can be expected.  We are all different people at work, or in public, than who we are with our family and yet again somebody else with our spouse in an empty nest household when we no longer have to act a certain way in front of our kids. "Being ourselves" means what? We all have Sybils inside us I think.

I got a call tonight when I was out walking Robbie.  Maybe it was because it was dark, but I could zero in on the voice of the person who was calling on his cell phone as he drove from Ontario, CA up to Vegas where he is working.  This person is Ben. Ben is a builder who worked for Gary for several years. Once in awhile when Ben would be working up in the Visalia area, Gary and I would meet up with him and have dinner and a drink.  When it came time to remodel our foreclosure dump in Mentone, Gary called on Ben to help.  Ben does nice work.  He is a finish carpenter, not a butcher.  He can also solder and he was able to hook up our water softener for $60 instead of $450 that the water softener company wanted to charge. Ben didn't do as much work building sheds in the last year because he took a job with a company that goes around and remodels grocery stores.  Steady work, but now he's always somewhere else besides home.
I was at the branch the evening in April when Gary saw Ben for the last time.  Gary ran the forklift and picked up some junk while he waited for Ben to finish so he could lock the gate. Later I asked Gary if Ben knew that he had cancer.  Gary said, "Well, I'm sure he knows something because of all the weight I've lost."  Gary never talked to Ben again.
When Ben called tonight, he said he was so sorry about Gary. No one had told him about Gary's death until 3 weeks after the fact.  He said that he told them he wanted to attend any memorial, but they never called him to let him know when it was.  So Ben was calling to say he was sorry that he had not been there.  He wanted me to know how much Gary meant to him and like everyone does, he told me how great a guy Gary was to him and how much he liked him.
Whenever I get these nice calls, its like ripping off a scab again. It is hard to hear how well liked your husband was because it reinforces that this likable guy is gone. Most days I can manage but then out of the blue someone says something nice about Gary and...

When I got back home tonight the word Legacy came to me in respect to Gary.  Gary would never ever think he could leave a legacy.  But we all do, good or bad.  I never realized how many people out there thought so highly about Gary until now.  They all have their reasons for saying that.  Its Gary's legacy and its a different thing for each person who misses him.

Until now, the word Legacy would have conjured up images of  the two Subaru Legacy cars I've owned. I loved them.  They had great qualities and they were both fun, reliable, safe and good looking.  Gary was all that to most people but much more than that to me.

I think Gary would truly be surprised at the legacy he left. He would never have guessed he would get so many cards and that so many people came to his memorials.  He left a great legacy.  I can only hope that I would leave one half as good as his.